OrphanAid: Etseri, Svaneti

The idea sounded great: a concert at the village club, selling tickets for whatever people want to pay, giving the money to a chosen local orphan! We discussed it at school. I asked how many orphans were on the list from whom to choose; two, they said. As possibly one of the biggest donors, I suggested that I would be happier contributing if the fund were split between the two, regardless of perceived “merit,” rather than having to choose one orphan over another. They agreed, and I felt free to add my part.

The event featured guest participants (mostly schoolchildren) from as far away as Khaishi, Lakhamula, Pari and Mestia, as well as us locals, filling the hall to standing room only. I took notes.

First: Why must the audience incessantly be so loud? The roar wasn’t even dull! Adults and children alike, all were conversing, using cell phones, calling out to each other across the hall, and generally making themselves a real distraction and competition with the performers on stage. Come on, people, show us that you’re not “uncivilized”! If I pointed this out or demanded quiet, I would only be adding to the hubbub; in any case, polite requests in this vein from the stage were equally politely ignored by the rabble. Sigh...

Next, the concert pointed out what a reliance on technology can mean when it lets you down. The sound system, imported from outside the village, featured rolling waves of volume, up, down, up, down, of a somewhat unpredictable duration. It refused to settle to one loudness, no matter what. And every singer used backup music playing through this system, except one group (ours) which had a panduri to strum instead. So the sound quality was horrible for us, and very frustrating for those trying to sing. Georgian singing, when it’s good, can be very, very good; when bad, horrid. This was more towards the latter, unfortunately.

There was also a strong echo present in the microphone sound, which might work for singing but was disastrous for speech. I could hardy understand a word of what was being said, and in any case, it came across as very over-dramatic.

The poem “I am a Svan” was a fine choice; but somewhat ironically delivered in Georgian, not Svan. Same with all of the speaking, and all but one or two of the songs. Thus dies the Svan language: not with a bang, but with a whimper.

I also noticed that many people were using their cell phones to photograph or video the concert. Fine by me: I certainly don’t need to be the only photographer, official or otherwise, at such events. Anyway, I wasn’t the only reporter there. Let anyone shoot who wants to (as long as it’s not too distracting from an otherwise already strongly distracted performance).

There were no traditional Svan costumes at all in evidence; instead, all had opted for plain black shirts and trousers. It was a rare opportunity to see the legs of the female dancers in motion, which is usually completely covered by nearly floor-length dresses or skirts. The effect didn’t seem to be wasted on many other male members of the audience, I thought.

The MC sang more than any other person—which was, perhaps, her right. But the sound system plagued her more than anyone because of this. An advance check would at least have pointed out the flaw.

Seeing that the concert started a half hour later even than its already late advertized start of 4 pm, I was a bit anxious that I might have to slip out early if it went beyond 6, being home alone and needing to put my cows in the barn for the night. But it ended after only an hour, so if anyone was in the same boat as I was, we were spared the need to depart too soon.

If this seems like a lot of criticism, the money raised was over 300 GEL, which I though a fantastic effort and result. Perhaps we can’t do such things too often, because the quality just isn’t up to it. But the benefit was quite a bit more than I had expected: easily enough to split and still be generous. So my main praise goes to all who gave, thumbing their noses knowingly or not at Ayn Rand’s horribly inhuman philosophy that only those who deserve should receive. We did this! Let’s do it again!

Tony Hanmer runs the “Svaneti Renaissance” Facebook group, now with over 1300 members, at

www.facebook.com/groups/SvanetiRenaissance/

He and his wife also run their own guest house in Etseri:

www.facebook.com/hanmer.house.svaneti

Tony Hanmer